


First and Last

by tjs_whatnot



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-30
Updated: 2007-12-30
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10804926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjs_whatnot/pseuds/tjs_whatnot
Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Remus Lupin share a Christmas...





	First and Last

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Remus had spent the wee hours of Christmas preparing for the day. He wanted everything to be just perfect. Enchanting the lights on the tree, lighting the candles in the window and placing the Yule log in the fire, he began making coffee for his wife. 

His wife. The word still sounded odd on his tongue. So much had changed in a year; he could hardly believe it was true. And yet, here was his lovely wife coming down the stairs.  

Lovely and grouchy. But that was what the coffee was for. It had only taken a few weeks of co-habitation to realize his Nymphadora without coffee was as growly and dangerous than he ever was in his worst werewolf days. 

While her hair was as black as her coffee and mood, he busied himself with preparing a breakfast feast of toast and…well toast. That was all his wife and mother-to-be could stomach these days. If wife was a hard word to imagine, father had been even more of a challenge. 

But as her hair turned her favorite purple, he came behind her, wrapped his arms around her larger-by-the-minute belly and rubbed it as he laid kisses along her neck line. 

“Happy Christmas,” he whispered. 

“Erm,” she said with a yawn and then turned and hugged him tight. “Happy Christmas to you too.” 

After a long kiss, Remus urged, “Hurry and eat so we can light the Yule log and open presents.” 

“What’s the hurry?” 

“Hurry? It’s after ten on Christmas morning. Next year and all the years after the pup will have us up at the crack of dawn to open presents and light the log. I let you have a bit of a lie in this morning.” 

Nymphadora liked to see her husband rambunctious and carefree and very rarely got to, so she did as she was told.  

Remus placed the offerings of fruit and milk around the log, they both held the flame and thought of all the bad choices, and mistakes they had made the year before so that they could burn it away and be renewed.  

Remus thought of his early desire to abandon his wife and child and Nymphadora thought of her forgetfulness when it came to birth-control potions. They didn’t think of the war or of the danger they lived in everyday. Those worries would wait for tomorrow. 

After lighting the log, they exchanged gifts. She gave him a sweater she had knitted herself and therefore had far too many arm holes, no neck hole and was two sizes too big. He gave her a photo album.  

As the log burned they looked through the photo album. All but the last few pages were filled with family and friends. The last pages were saved for their new family. 

They failed to notice, as they talked of their future, that the shadows cast on the opposite wall from the Yule log was of their bodies, oddly headless. 

 

 

 


End file.
